On The Run
by billybob579
Summary: Suddenly and without warning, Michael, his friends, and his family all become the target of an unknown enemy and are forced to go on the run, dodging assassination attempts while still trying to keep hold of their old lifestyle and still take clients.
1. So It Begins:  Prologue

**_Author's Note_**

_Well, this is my first story and I just wanted to say thanks for reading it. This right here is currently just a prologue, but I plan on adding new chapters frequently. I would greatly appreciate comments and reviews, so if you dont mind taking the time to provide one, that'd be great. Also, just wanted to say thanks to _arrow154 _for providing some assistance and consultation with this. Additionally, this is set at an undetermined time in the Burn Notice universe, so the timeline hasn't really reached what's happening currently in season 5. Thank you, hope you enjoy it._

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><p>Upon hearing the distinctive barks of a 12 gauge and a sharp cry of pain echoing down the hallway behind him, Al reflexively dropped his coffee mug on the counter and jumped up, drawing his pistol from its holster and leveling it toward the direction of the apparent intruders. He squinted into the dark corridor, but saw no one. A moment later, the world around him became white light and searing red heat as the breaching charges that had been installed outside his exterior window detonated.<p>

At that moment, a tall, skinny, brown-haired woman sprinted into the room and fired a bean-bag round into Al's chest. He screamed silently, collapsing to the ground and gasping for air. A few seconds afterward, as the woman began to bind and gag the still-gasping Al, another man entered the room and looked down, frowning. "Fi, the the reason we had the breaching charges was so you _didn't_ have to shoot him."

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><p>Sam sat sipping his beer while leaned back in the latest car they'd "borrowed" off the streets. Despite the heat, he'd chosen to have the top down on this particular job. After all, the only thing he needed to do was keep the car running until Mike and Fi got back from whatever they were doing. He still didn't even know why they were here, outside a small - and rather run-down looking, he noted - office building. He was jerked out of his thoughts, however, when he heard the faint echo of a shotgun blast.<p>

_F__i._

He put the sleek silver car into gear and sped towards the ground-floor fire exit that they'd chosen as their escape route. He had just barely come to a stop outside when the door burst open and Mike ran out, half-dragging a man while Fiona covered him from behind. Michael hoisted the man into the car and jumped in. Fiona fired off yet another bean-bag round at an approaching guard before she too climbed into the vehicle and they roared away, out the parking lot and into a series of alleys and side-streets in order to avoid main roads.

Thirty minutes later, they rounded the last corner and the road died away, opening up to the wide expanse of the harbor. The view was marred with cargo containers and warehouses, plus the occasional crane. Sam brought the car to a stop, and Michael hopped out, inspecting the surroundings. _Good place for an ambush,_ he thought to himself the moment before the bullet impacted his chest, a few centimeters from hitting his heart. A split-second later, the crack of a rifle was heard.

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><p>For a moment, Fiona found herself frozen, staring at <em>his<em> motionless body, wondering... Then her surroundings brought her back and she was dropping to one knee, drawing her side-arm and firing in futility at the unseen marksman. Sam, however, was much faster to react, and the instant he heard the gunshot he was sprinting towards the crane where he it had come from. He cleared about half the distance in a just under ten seconds, and could make out the shape of a figure descending the ladder. The rapidly approaching former navyman began to slow, stopping behind a large container and drawing his glock. He peered around the edge, eyeing the man who was now nearly to the ground. Sam stepped around the corner, raised his weapon, and fired.

The round hit its target in the lower left leg, tearing through flesh and muscle and bursting through the other side in a spray of red. The man lost his grip on the ladder and fell the rest of the way to the ground. Sam rushed forward and bent down, removing the now rapidly bleeding man's weapon and tossing it aside. "It's not too late for you to live. This wound isn't particularly bad, but I can change that. If you'd rather I not, you're going to tell me who you are, who you work for, and why you just shot that man!"

A fit of coughing, then he replied in a faint voice: "M- my name's Isaac. I dont know who I work for, I've never met in person... All business handled over-" Another series of coughs. "All handled on the phone. I was asked to shoot that man, so I did. That's the way this job works. This job comes with a six digit payoff, it seemed well worth it..."

Sam clenched up his fist for a moment, then relaxed it and hit the man over the head with his gun instead. At that point, he looked up and saw Fi standing over him, now holding the man's rifle and wearing a grim expression. "You catch all that?"

"Every word," she responded, tightening her grip on the rifle. "Whatever's going on here, it sounds big."

"Well, you and I both know that Mike's made his fair share of enemies in his day. This could be anyone... Is Mike going to be alright?"

Fiona nodded and glanced back at Michael, who was now leaned against the hood of their car, removing the vest he'd worn as a precaution when retrieving Al and inspecting his wound. "Yeah, he should live. His bulletproof vest took the blunt of the damage. The round deflected off, but he's got a broken rib or two, and there's a small puncture wound that's losing a bit of blood. All in all, he got off lucky."

"I'd hardly call this lucky, but I suppose being alive ain't nothing. We'd better get out of here, though. I'd imagine someone heard the gunfire and called it in. The police are probably on their way now. Gonna be some hard questions to answer if we're here when they arrive." With that, they both walked back to the car, removed the still unconscious Al, and got in, sighing with exhaustion.

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><p>Twelve miles out from Michael's place, Mike sat up in the back seat and addressed Sam. "We cant go there. Whoever it is that's gunning for me clearly knows enough about us that he'd be watching the place."<p>

Fiona turned around and frowned at Michael, considering the options. "Well, what do you suggest? I dont have a place, I dont think Sam has a place... Where else can we go? I hardly think your mom would welcome-" She fell silent, suddenly realizing the inevitable.

Sam had figured it out just before she did, and spoke up. "Mikey, if they know where you live, they're gonna know where your mom lives." Without another word, he turned off the highway and headed for Madeline's.

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><p>The door was wide open and a car was parked in the driveway at an odd angle. Mike was out and moving before their vehicle had stopped, Sam and Fi close behind. All three were holding their side-arms of choice and inching slowly toward the door. Michael was the first one in, looking cautiously about the room with his handgun half-raised. He peered around the corner and spotted a man with a Mac-10 held by his side facing his mother. Without hesitation, Mike dropped him, ignoring the seering pain as he raised his arms up.<p>

Madeline cried out in suprise and horror at watching her captor's head being splattered across her wall. "Michael!" There was several seconds of silence, with Mattie staring at her son, Michael looking back at her in relief, with Sam and Fiona standing awkwardly by the door. "So..." She glanced at the corpse and winced slightly. "Thanks," she said in a weak voice.


	2. Chapter 1: This is bad, Mike

**Author's Note**

_I'm sincerely amazed at the response my story has gotten. Thank you all for reading it, and especially to those who commented. I've decided that to keep the story from having any crazy-long arcs other than the main one and to prevent the main story from dying out, I'm going to break the story up into "episodes," with a group of smaller chapters to each. This will also help me to provide a steady rate of new material, instead of slightly-larger chapters spaced out across much longer periods of time. If you find that such a system is unappealing, please say so in the comments or just message me privately. Thanks again for the support. (Edit: I changed Chapter 1 around a bit so that Mike was wearing a bullet-proof vest at the time, to make things seem a bit more realistic. Thanks to _storyfan101_ for pointing this out.)_

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><p>"Thanks," she said in a weak voice.<p>

"Yeah, no problem," Michael stated, then turned to his mother's former captor who was now bleeding out on the floor. "Who sent you?"

The man turned to Michael, staring blankly at him for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but cringed in pain as he attempted to. After another try, he managed to get out, "He's coming for you. He's coming and he's not going to stop until you're dead." He gasped in pain at the effort it took to speak, but continued on after a moment. "He will kill you, and he will kill everyone that you care about until he finds you." He sat up suddenly and grabbed Michael's arm. "You have know idea who you're up against..." and with that he fell back to the ground and breathed no longer.

Michael, grim faced, slumped down into the chair across from Madeline and turned to her. "Did that man say who he was or tell you anything?"

"No, I was was doing my stretches when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and when I opened it, he just pointed his gun at me and came in! He pointed his gun at me, Michael!"

"Yeah, mom, I'm sorry. I need to find out what's going on." Then, in a slightly more forceful tone: "Did he say anything?"

"Well, he pushed me into the kitchen and told me to sit down. I asked what he wanted and he just said that he needed to see you. Said he had some business to take care of or something. What's this about, Michael? What's going on?"

"I dont know... I dont know." He turned to Sam and Fiona with a questioning look.

"Mikey, whatever this is, it's big-time. Our friendly neighborhood assassin Isaac was getting a six digit payout to kill you. No offence, but you're not worth a hundred grand. I dont think anyone is. Whoever it is that hired him and our buddy here on the ground has got some deep pockets and he's not afraid to dip into them. You heard that guy. This is just the tip of the iceberg," stated Sam in a slow, thoughtful manner.

"So what if this guy's got a few hired guns? We've taken on everything that anyone could throw at as and we're getting on just fine."

Michael considered this for a while, then replied. "Sam, you're right. I dont know who it is that could be gunning for me, but it's clear that this is just the beginning. Fi, you make a valid point. We've managed ourselves very well these past few years, and there's not a whole lot of things out there that we couldn't take. But this isn't just about us any more. They came for my mom. They're not gonna hesitate to go after anyone else we know. Nate, Virgil, Fi's brother, even Barry. Everyone we've worked with, all our relatives. They're all in danger."

Silence for nearly a minute. Then, "Well? What're you gonna do about it?" All three of the others turned to Madeline. "Oh, come on. You three have always got something, some way to stop the badguys and save the day!"

Sam and Fi looked to Michael, waiting for him to answer. "I dont think there's anything we can do. We should call anyone that this person might-" All four of them froze, listening intently to the sound of a vehicle approaching. They held their breath, waiting, and then there was silence. The car had stopped and shut off it's engine. They all stood up, Madeline rushing off to the back, presumably to retrieve her shotgun. Michael grabbed the Mac-10 off the ground and held it steady at his side. Fiona unslung the rifle from her back, gripping it in her hands. Sam took his glock in one hand and stepped over to the counter and grabbed a steak-knife in the other. All of them wore grim expressions on their faces as they prepared for the inevitable oncoming attack.

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><p>Edward Reese, well known soldier of fortune in the criminal underworld, brought the van to a halt and hopped out. As he moved, he thought about what a disaster this had already become. Isaac was dead, and now Victor was too, presumably. The doors on the back opened up and two other men hopped out. Jonathan Wright was carrying an M4A1, while the man alongside him, Harry Carter, brought an MP5. Edward moved toward the door, John and Harry right behind them. His Desert Eagle had barely left its holster, however, when his chest was ripped apart by twelve gauge buckshot. As he collapsed to the ground, he thought he caught a glimpse of an elderly woman stepping back around the left corner of the house. The other men must have seen her too, because they were firing in that direction a split-second before she'd gotten around behind the cover of the brick house. The crack of a rifle echoed through the air and Carter dropped his weapon and clutched in futile effort at his leg that was now rapidly gushing blood. Mattie poked back around from behind her cover and fired another burst of buckshot at Jonathan as he ran back to the van for cover. However, it missed and the remaining gunman reached his vehicle and crouched behind it, breathing heavily.<p>

Mattie returned to the inside of the house through the back door, where she had originally left after retrieving her shotgun. Fi had her back to the wall nearest the door, and would lean around and take a shot with her rifle every so often. Sam was doing the same with his glock by the opposite wall. Between the two of them, they kept their remaining attacker pinned behind his cover. Michael was nowhere to be seen.

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><p><em>Running<em>, he thought. _Always with the running._

After hopping the fence to Mrs. Reynold's yard, running out her gate and into the street to the back of Mattie's house, and sprinting the distance to the end of the street, Michael had reached the corner and turned back onto the house's street. There, about 60 yards away, was a man crouching behind a grey van. Two others lay bleeding in the front yard. The van was taking heavy fire, some from a high caliber rifle and some from a small handgun, from the sound of it. Michael sat crouching at the end of the street for a little while, waiting. Then, silence. Sam and Fi had both stopped firing, and Wright stood up, leveling his assault rifle and peering down the sights. Mike rushed forward and upon reaching about 30 meters distance, emptied the clip in the Mac-10. 9mm rounds sprayed everywhere, and it was apparent that some of them had reached their target. The man slumped over against the van. His rifle fell out of his hands, and he made no effort to retrieve it.

Michael moved slowly forward toward the man and checked for a pulse. He had none. Sam, Fi, and Madeline moved up to and out the front door, looking at Michael. He nodded, then proceeded confirmed that the remaining two men were dead, then returned to the others. They said nothing for a while, just standing there together. Then Sam turned to Mike. "Michael..."

"Yeah, Sam. I know," and without another word, they gathered up the weapons from the other men and loaded them into the deceased attackers' van. Fiona sat down with the weaponry in the back, and Michael took the passenger seat of the cabin, leaving Sam to drive. Madeline took one last longing look at the war-torn house, then climbed into the van and took a seat alongside Fi.

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><p><strong>Ending Comment<strong>

_Oh, look, my first cliffhanger! Well, anyway, I figured that I could've made this chapter a lot longer, but as I mentioned, I want to do a larger number of small chapters, rather than just a few massive ones. Again, if you object, please say so in the comments and I might change my system. Thanks for reading, I'd be happy to hear your opinions._


	3. Chapter 2:  The First Hours

**Author's Note**

_Here we are with the third update. In this segment, it slows down a bit. There's less action and more dialog. Also, we learn a bit about what people back home think when Michael, his mother, and his friends all suddenly vanish, leaving four bodies and a bullet-shredded house._

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><p>Sam turned the ignition in the van, put it in gear, and then looked to Michael. "Where exactly are we going, Mikey?"<p>

He considered this for a moment, then answered. "West. We'll go west."

Sam just shrugged, but Fiona looked up from the back of the van and opened the glass divider between the cabin and the back. "Why west?"

"Last I heard from Nate, he was in Las Vegas. He's going to be the next person _they_ go after. We'll call him, tell him to watch his back, head east if he can. We'll meet up somewhere in the middle and work out what to do then. Maybe we'll lose _them, _at least for a while, and we can just go back to taking clients and such."

"What, while we're in hiding? In another state?"

"We dont have much of an option, Fi. It's that or let this person kill everyone we care about, and eventually us."

Fiona didn't have a response to that, so she just remained silent. Sam turned the car around, headed for the nearest major road, and started them going east.

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><p><em>"What do you mean, someone's coming for me? I'm in Vegas, bro! I got no enemies here, it's all cool."<em>

"Nate, listen to me," Michael spoke into his cell-phone. "I'm not even sure what's going on, but someone's trying to kill me, and they're willing to go through family to get to me."

_"Is mom-"_

"Mom's fine, she's right here. They went to the house but Sam, Fi, and I got there."

Madeline looked up at hearing herself being spoken about. "Is that Nate?" She raised her voice to be heard over the phone. "Hi, Nate! It's mom! How are you?"

_"I'm doing great! It's nice to hear from you. I had this crazy great idea a while back, and now it's only a matter of time before I start raking in th-"_

"Nate! We dont want to hear about your stupid get-rich-quick schemes. I called to tell you to try and head east if you can. It's not safe for any of us where we are. They've got recent intel on us, and we'll need to be a lot more careful about covering our tracks from this point on. Dont tell anyone what you're doing or where you're going. Just pack up and leave. We'll check in with each other frequently and coordinate where we are. As we progress, we'll work out an exact location to meet."

_"And then what?"_

"And then we'll come up with something else. Look, it's not like I've had a long time to think this over. It's a work in progress. What matters is that we meet up as soon as possible."

_"Alright, bro. I'll take it from the super-spy on this one. Doctor Nate, over and out."_ There was a long silence after that as the van hummed along down the road, changing lanes and adjusting it's speed every so often. It went on like that for about an hour before Sam muttered, "Should've brought a dang beer."

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><p>Nate Westen carried the last box of belongings out to his truck, returned to the door of his one-room apartment and locked it, then went back to the truck and got in. He sighed, sitting there at the wheel and drumming his fingers on the dashboard. He didnt want to go. <em>Surely no one was going to come all the way to Vegas just for him. Why should he up and leave just because his brother got involved in-<em> The windshield shattered, spraying Nate with glass. The sound of a gunshot resounded through the air, and he instinctively ducked down to take cover behind the dash and checked himself frantically for injury. There was no sign of one other than some cuts from the glass, so either the attacker had missed or it was a warning shot. He slowly sat up, peering outside, and saw a scruffy looking man with a pistol standing outside, pointing it at Nate.

"Awful nice truck you got there, and so much stuff. How's about you just step out nice 'n' slow-like."

Nate slowly opened the door and climbed out. He couldnt help but breath a sigh of relief, however. Just a simple ordinary mugger, not a trained assassin like the ones that Michael had suggested might be coming for him. Nate backed away, as if to let the mugger pass and step into the car. However, as the armed man did so, he turned to face the truck for a moment when getting in and took his eyes off of Nate. The Westen brother took this opportunity to step forward and shove the man's head into the roof of the truck as he was climbing up, then grab his right arm and pull him back and onto the ground. He hit it hard, gasping in suprise and having his breath knocked out of him. Nate quickly bent down and grabbed the gun away from him, pointing it steadily at the man as he climbed back into his truck, shut the door, and sped away.

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><p>Madeline had opened the van's back doors and was out and running for the service station before the vehicle had reached a stop. Michael looked out the window as his mother ran inside. He hopped out once Sam had stopped at the gas pump, and walked around to the back, looking inquisitively at Fiona. "Lady's Room," she stated, and Michael nodded, his unspoken question now answered. They stood there for a while, just looking at eachother in a mix of affection and exaustion. Madeline returned shortly afterward with a worried expression on her face.<p>

"Michael, there's something you should come see..." He followed her inside the station, where she pointed to a television screen located in the back of the store section.

_"-and is alse believed to be involved in the kidnapping of his elderly mother, Madeline Westen, who's home was found torn apart by heavy gunfire. If you see this man or either of his associates, Fiona Glenanne or Sam Axe, please notify the police immediately. In other news..." _Michael stared in shock at the screen as pictures of himself, his mother, and both Sam and Fi were shown. At that moment, he glanced at the cashier. She was standing at an odd angle pretending not to be looking at Michael and Mattie. And she was speaking into a phone in a hushed voice.

Michael and his mother looked at each other and both ran outside and to the van immediately. "Sam, it's good enough! Get us moving!" Sam removed the hose from their vehicle's tank and tossed it aside, then hopped into the driver's seat and started the car again, smashing down on the pedal and tearing out of the parking lot and back onto the open road.


	4. Chapter 3:  Still Running

**Author's Note**

_Here we are with the fourth installation. I think I'm going to wrap up this "episode" next chapter, and we'll be done with the vehicle setting. Honestly, it's hard to be creative when you're using "van" or "vehicle" every two sentences. So, thank you all once again. I appreciate all the encouraging and helpful comments that I've recieved and thank you for them. And yes, I do realize that I posted this very quickly after my last chapter. I've just have so many ideas about different things that can happen and I wanted to hurry up and move on a bit._

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><p>"What do you mean, we're on the news!" Fiona shouted from the back of the van as they sped along down the road, now seven hours into their life-or-death road trip.<p>

"Fi, it's no big deal. They have our pictures, they know our names. That's nothing new."

"We're wanted by the police for a kidnapping, Michael! I'd say that's new!"

"Yes, it's not exactly a good thing, but it's not like we can ask my mom to go up to a cop and say, 'Hello, I'm Madeline Westen. My son did not kidnap me.' If we do that, we'll be telling the people trying to kill us exactly where we are!"

Sam sighed, doing his best to ignore the two and instead just stared out the window at the passing trees. A sign caught his eye. _Alabama, 25 miles._

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><p>Nate stared out the window at the desert as he drove on, heading south-east toward Arizona. He sighed to himself as he reclined back in his chair and pulled out his phone, checking his messages and texting his special lady-friend back in Vegas still.<p>

_Pain. Intense, burning pain. This sucks. _That was the only coherant Nate had as his truck's front right tire blew out, causing it to swerve violently, then go into several complete rolls before coming to a stop at an odd angle with the passenger's side smashed against the ground. Nate sat there for quite a long time, suspended in the air by his seatbelt. Eventually he opened his door up, put an arm up through it and held on tight, then undid his seatbelt. He pulled himself up and out, dropping down to the hot asphalt road. _Well, crap._

He looked at his truck. It was damaged beyond help. His personal belongings were scattered across the road for a hundred yards. He examined the blown-out tire, but it was shredded. There would be no telling what caused him to crash. He resumed his previous course, limping alongside the road. After a while, he saw a black van coming up on the horizon, headed towards him. It came to a halt a dozen meters from where he was. Nate walked up to the driver-side window. The driver was a muscular man, about thirty, maybe thirty-five years old. "Looks like you could use a ride." He paused, peering out the window and looking at the wreckage of Nate's truck. "That yours?" he asked, pointing towards it.

"Yeah, that's mine. Tire blew out, I suppose. Couldnt find anything that mighta caused it, though." Nate hesitated, resting his hand on the pistol he still had tucked into his belt. It was out of sight of the driver though, due to his proximity to the van. In the split-second pause, several thoughts ran through Nate's head. One, there was no sign of nails or anything that could've caused the tire to blow out. Two, this van certainly had come along at a convenient time. Three, the people after Michael would want Nate alive as bait. "So, where you headed?"

"Oh, I was just driving to Vegas to make a delivery. You can catch a ride if you like."

Nate tightened his grip on his handgun, looking the man with barely-hidden suspicion. "Oh, that's quite alright. Thank you much, though." The man's left hand was sliding down of the wheel and toward his waste. Closer, and closer, and closer... Nate grabbed his pistol and whipped it out, taking a step back and pointing it at the man. Both men drew their weapons at the same time, leveling them toward the other. The driver, still not taking his eyes off the Westen brother, opened his door and stepped out. The men were about two yards away from each other now, slowly circling each other.

"So, I see you have some of your brother's instincts with a gun. A shame, really. This could've been much simpler."

Nate nodded in mock agreement. "Truly, if only I was as stupid as you are." The man looked slightly annoyed, but didnt respond. "So, how's this going to go down?"

"Well, way I see it, either you drop that weapon and toss it aside, and you can come for a ride in the van all civilized-like. Or, you could continue to point your gun at me, and we'll stand out here in the heat for a while longer, then one of us will slip up an-" Nate's pistol thundered as he fired three rounds off at the man. The first into his gun-arm, the second one missed, going just above his shoulder, and the third impacted his chest and threw him backwards a foot or two. Nate kicked the man's weapon away, and crouched down over him.

"Sorry about that, guess I misfired. You still alright with putting me in the back of the van and all?" The man glared back at him, gasping for air and saying nothing.

Nate shrugged and walked back to the van, where he conducted a thorough search of it. In the passenger-seat floorboard wrapped in cloth, he found a scoped bolt-action rifle. He checked the clip; it was missing one round. He sat down in the driver seat, and continued east.

* * *

><p>Back in Alabama, Fiona and Michael had concluded their argument and Fiona had calmed down. Sam had moved into the back to get some rest and Madeline took over driving. Michael had just dialed Barry's number and was waiting for a response.<p>

_*click*_ _"Hello?"_

"Barry, this is Michael, I'm ca-"

_"Michael! What is going on! The cops find your mother's home shot up with four bodies in the yard, and she's missing! You're all over the news!"_

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that. Listen, someone with a lot of money is trying to kill me, and I have no idea who. The four people at my mom's house came to kill us, and there was one at the docks too. But I need you to pull some strings, see if you can find out who's doing all this."

_"Mike, I know I'm your go-to guy when you need something done magically, but this is not anything I can help with."_

"Come on, you're the best at your job in Florida. You've got plenty of clients, it's possible that one of them is behind this."

_"Best at my job in Florida? Just Florida? I'm insulted, Michael."_

"Barry! Focus!"

_"Alright, I'll poke around for any large transfer of wealth in the last week or so, specifically to anyone involved in the major Miami crime organisations. But I'm not making any promises here. This is a shot in the dark, at best."_

"Ok, I appreciate you trying."

_*click*_ Silence for a while after that, other than drone of the engine and Sam's light snoring. After a while, Madeline glanced over to her son. "Michael," she started.

"Yeah, mom?"

"Thanks for coming for me back there, Michael. And for stopping those men."

"Of course. I'm just glad we got there in time."

"Michael," she said again, "How much longer are we going to go on like this? Running away from our homes, hiding from an enemy who's name we dont know?"

He thought about that for a while. "As long as we have to. As long as it's not safe."

"Michael."

"Yeah, mom?"

"Will it ever be safe?"

* * *

><p><strong>Ending Note<strong>

*dramatic sound effect*

So... Yeah. There you have it. Hope you enjoyed, I'll hopefully have the epilogue for this opening mini-arc up before too long and we can move onto our next episode. Thanks for reading.


	5. So it Begins: Epilogue

**Author's Note**

_This side note gets its own paragraph so that there's no confusion. This is not the epilogue to the story, it's the epilogue to the episode. _On The Run_ is not over. I'll have the next chapter up soon, hopefully._ _Fear not, readers._

_Well, this did take quite a bit longer than I thought it would. Sorry about that, I've been dealing with a lot of other stuff lately and this kinda got set on the backburner. But now I'm back! *another dramatic sound effect, please* So, anyway... Hope you enjoy this next installment of the story, I'll work on getting the next one up a bit quicker than I did this one. Also, this is a dialog chapter, and is actually my first to not have anyone shoot or get shot at. Hope this doesn't destroy your lives or make a satellite crash into your home. ****Disclaimer: billybob579, **_**On the Run_, and this website are not responsible for any injury, maiming, or death caused by the continued reading of this text. No lawsuits may be filed against any of the afore-mentioned parties if an orbital apparatus were to impact your home, workplace, or other location you may be while reading this._**

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><p>After several more long days of traveling, the black van rumbled to a halt outside a motel located in a small town in east Texas. Michael opened the door on the driver side and stepped out, looking around and assessing the area. The run-down motel was on the outskirts of town, with just some old homes and a few shops located nearby. Sam stepped out of the passenger side and turned to Michael. "Don't tell me this is where we're stopping, Mikey..."<p>

"Yeah, I know it's not exactly luxurious or anything, but it's low-key and that's what we need right now. We're wanted for kidnapping and possibly murder, this is not the time to go walking into a large town or a place with a lot of law enforcement activity. Besides, Nate's only a day away and this is as good a place as any."

"Yeah, I know, but still... It just seems like we could do a bit better and not get killed for it."

At this point, Madeline and Fiona had come out from the back of the van. Mattie was still standing at the back, smoking. Fiona had walked up to join the other two. "I don't know, I kind of like the small-town setup. It's just such an amazing place, Sam. You wouldn't believe how many places you can stash a body or a cache of guns out here."

Sam gave her one of his _You are a complete psycho_ looks, but just shook his head and said, "Let's get inside, I'm getting a bit tired of standing out here debating the conditions of an ideal place to stash a body." He turned toward the building and saw a slender dark-skinned man with black hair standing there with his arms crossed, staring at Sam.

"Now look what you've done, Sam. Now they think you're a murderer."

"Fi-"

"Guys!" Michael interrupted. "Just stop it already! I'm going to head inside, see if I can get us some rooms." Michael started towards the motel office where the man had apparently turned and headed back inside. He entered the room and instinctively looked around, quickly locating exits and other people. The room was a small one, lit only by a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, with a single couch in one corner, and against the other wall was a desk where the owner was just taking a seat. There were no electronics of any kind, Michael noted gratefully.

"Hello, my name is Thomas, welcome to the Coronto Motel. Can I help you?"

"Aye, that'd be mighty fine of you, sir," stated Michael. "I'm Michael. My family and I were passing through, and we need a place to stay for a few nights. I dont suppose you could accomodate us?"

"I believe we could, in fact. We have a number of rooms available."

"That's excellent. I'd like something either with no windows or facing a wall, far from the elevators and close to the exits. If you have it." The man gave Michael a quizzical look, but flipped through a notebook and nodded.

"Yes, I have several rooms here that should work for you. How many people in your party?"

Michael ignored the question, and instead just stated, "Two rooms should be sufficient."

Another confused look from the man, then, "Alright, that should be one-hundred-fifty dollars a night."

Michael pulled out the small roll of cash his mother had supplied him with before he entered. That's all they had managed to grab before they left their home days ago. He counted out the money the man had requested; it was nearly the whole roll, just for one night. Michael passed the money to Thomas, frowning. The man saw the little cash Michael had left, and spoke up. "I know it's none of my business, but it looks like you're low on cash. You did say you're planning on staying a couple nights, right?"

"Yeah, we're not sure how long we'll be here. Could be a few days, could be a week or two."

The man frowned. "Well, I'm afraid you can't stay here for free, but..." He trailed off, then said "No, it wouldnt be right to ask for something like that."

Michael recognized the look of desperation in the man's eyes. "Is there something I can help with? I s'pose this isn't my business either, but you look like you need help and I know I need a place to stay. Maybe we can help each other out."

* * *

><p>Back outside, Fiona was pacing back and forth, getting somewhat nervous. Michael had been in there for quite a while. Something might have gone wrong, and here she was, just standing around. She walked over to the back of the van, opened it up, and grabbed the M4A1 from the back. She held it in both hands at her chest in a relaxed position and walked over to the motel office. She pushed the door open and peered inside. Everything seemed to be fine. "Maybe we can help each other out," Michael was saying.<p>

"No, I dont think this is anything you can handle. It's just gotten out of control now, there's nothing anyone can do." At this moment, Fiona opened the door all the way and stepped inside and into view. Tom's eyes immediately came to rest on the assault rifle in her hands, and his eyes widened.

Fiona smiled, bringing the weapon up a bit and shifting her grip. "Trust me, there's a lot we can do."

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, Fiona, Sam, and Michael were sitting in a small lounge on the other side of the motel. Madeline had gone up to the room she would be sharing with Fi to get some rest. "Okay, Tom, tell us exactly what the problem is," Michael said.<p>

"Well, a friend of mine owns a cattle ranch about twenty miles south of here. Lately, there's been some attacks on his place. People will drive up to his pastures and gun down every animal in sight. If a field-hand gets caught in the crossfire, they dont care. The guy's lost several hundred head of cattle now and a number of the people out there have been hit in the crossfire."

So, why havent you gone to the police?"

"A town like this? We have a sheriff, and that's it. And he's busy dealing with something else right now. So, anyway, after the last shooting, the guys didnt drive off. They drove their truck up to my friend's front door, hopped out, and kicked it down. They told him that unless he can come up with thirty grand in the next two weeks, they'll just keep killing the animals and destroying his property. He's going to lose his home, his family, everything... There's no way he can come up with the money."

"Alright, what exactly is it that you're asking us to do?"

"Honestly, I don't even know who you are, but you've got some big guns and you sound like you know what you're doing. I just want my friend to be safe, whatever you need to do to make that happen."

Michael considered the situation for a while. "Alright, Tom. We'll do what we can."

* * *

><p><strong>Final Note<strong>

_I congratulate you on surviving any satellites that may have impacted your current location. If none have, I applaude your incredible luck for avoiding such a scenario. But seriously, I'll hopefully get the next chapter up faster than I did this one. Thank you for your continued reading, and I wish you many non-falling-satellite filled days of life and longevity._


	6. Adjusting: Prologue

**Author's Note**

_Yeah, this is an incredibly short chapter. That's because I didnt want to have all the action and fighting in the prologue to the second episode. Therefore, I'm putting this in its own little segment just to keep things moving. I did, however, release chapter 1 of "Adjusting" at the same time as this prologue, so that's a change. Also, on a side note, this story has now passed 1000 views. Thank you all for your encouraging comments and support._

* * *

><p>Madeline sat on her bed in the motel room, talking with Fiona who sat on her folded-out couch she'd be sleeping on. "Do you really think that this whole thing will ever just go away?" she asked.<p>

Fiona took a moment to formulate a response to that, but finally just said, "Madeline, we really don't know a whole lot about what's going on. We don't know how much resources or wealth that this person or group has. There's no way we can predict how long this will last."

"But it won't last forever, then?"

"There's no shortage of thugs, criminals, and trained assassins that could be sent after us, but the more people we stop, the more frustrated our would-be killer gets. There's no telling what kind of nastiness he'll throw at us before this is all over."

"But Michael... I dont know, he treats this like it's just another one of your jobs."

"I think maybe that's what this is to him. He's spent a lot of time in covert operations. After dealing with a few situations like the ones he faced, you lose a part of yourself. You start thinking completely analytically. Everything is statistics, friends who've fallen in battle are casualties, nothing more... A relationship is just a tactical risk, a possible conflict-of-interest..." Fiona trailed off, looking down at the old wooden floor.

They sat there in silence for a while before Maddie clapped her hands together and stood up. "Well, you should probably head down. I think Mike and Sam are probably ready to head out now. If you're going to get a look at that ranch, it'd probably be best to have a look sooner rather than later."

Fiona nodded an affirmative and stood up as well, heading for the door. She opened it and stepped out, then paused and turned back to Maddie. "You shouldn't worry, you know. He can handle himself." Maddie managed a weak smile and nodded slightly. Fiona turned around and went to find the others.

* * *

><p>"Sam, I'm telling you, the best way to do this is for me to go in as the spokesman of a different gang moving in on this territory."<p>

"Mikey, that's just gonna get you shot on the spot. These people aren't criminal masterminds like we've delt with in the past, these are just some thugs looking for cash!"

"Oh, then what do you suggest? I just sit around and wait for them to attack the farm again, and when they do I walk up and say, 'Hello, I'm a burned spy who's here to stop you. Leave these men alone!'?"

"Well, no. You should wait until they approach the farmhouse to collect their money. When they do, we rush in and grab 'em."

"And just hope that no one gets shot in the process? And that the farmer assumes we're not there to kill him too? Don't forget, they'll be watching the place, so if we go up and tell him that we're helping out, they gunners will know to be ready for us."

"Well, then-" Fi entered the room, looking between the two and trying to determine the source of the argument. "Great, there you are, Fi. What do you think, should we-"

"Michael's plan," she said. "I'm sure your plan is stupid, Sam. Definitely, we should go with Michael's plan."

Sam just sighed and said, "Mike's plan it is."


	7. Chapter 1: She's The Boss

**Author's Note**

_Dont really have anything to put here because I posted the last chapter at the same time as this one, due to it being so short. I said everything I wanted to say in the last chapter. So... That's about it.  
>(Edit: *facepalms* I'm not good with hair-colors, but honestly, Sam's hair color has changed more than once throughout the series and yes, I'd say Fiona's hair is dark brown. But to avoid confusion, I just edited out that part.)<em>

* * *

><p>Ricardo Perez lay prone on the hilltop overlooking the Dumont Farms, peering through binoculars at the connecting road and watching for anyone who might approach the farmhouse. He was so focused on watching the road, in fact, that he didn't notice the man behind him until he was being grabbed by the shirt collar and pulled onto his feet. The man poked Rick in the back with the end of a gun in order to make a point, then released his grip. "Turn around," a deep voice ordered. Ricardo slowly turned to see a man a bit taller than him wearing a Hawaiian shirt.<p>

"Who are you?" he asked in a frightened Hispanic accent.

"My name's Chuck Finley, but I'm not the guy you need to be worried about." He turned and gestured toward a truck rapidly climbing the dirt path up the hill. "She's the one you need to worry about." Rick squinted at the truck and made out a slender woman in the driver's seat wearing a red tank-top. Next to her in the passenger seat was a man with dark sunglasses and a dark brown t-shirt. The truck came to a halt a few meters from "Chuck" and Ricardo, and the woman hopped out of the truck. The man was close behind her, carrying a Mac-10 and some sort of assault rifle that Rick couldn't identify. She barked out an order and the man tossed the rifle to her. She caught it, spun it around, and slid a magazine into the chamber in a single fluid movement.

"Who are you people!" Ricardo shouted, now getting extremely worried. Sam kept the pistol to his back to keep him from going anywhere.

"My name is Glen, this Mickey, and I believe you and Big Chuck have already met."

"What do you want?" Ricardo asked Michael.

Michael looked to Fiona, as if waiting for her to answer. After a moment of silence, he addressed Rick. "Dont ask me, she's the boss."

"What we want is for you and your crew to leave my town."

"We can't leave, there's no way! And what do you mean, your town? I've lived here all my life, I never see you before!"

"The thing is, Rick, we _are_ new to town, but we make friends quickly. And the people that aren't our friends... Well, we cant have them around."

"I can't do anything, I'm just supposed to watch that farm down there! I can't do anything!" Sam jabbed him in the back again with his gun.

Michael spoke up in a stuttering nervous voice, addressing Fiona. "Boss, this guy don't know nothing. We should just kill him like normal and find someone-"

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait! Hold on! I'll help! I can't do anything about making us leave, but I'll take you to the crew leader and you can deal with him!"

Fiona shook her head. "Sorry, we're not taking you along for a ride to give you another chance to escape. We'll find him on our own if you can't tell us the address." She flicked the safety off her M4A1, and brought it up to the shoulder, her finger resting on the trigger.

"Ok, wait! I can tell you the address! Just don't kill me!" Fiona sighed in disappointment, then secured her rifle and tossed it back to Michael, who returned it to the truck. He returned a moment later with a notepad and pencil. Michael passed it to Fiona, who handed it to Ricardo.

"Now, you're going to write down where we can find your boss, what he looks like, and any information you have about him."

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, Francis Dumont heard a knock on his door. He opened it to see a man with dark sunglasses and a dark brown shirt nod to him, then get into the passenger seat of a truck and drive away. Francis looked down. At his feet was a man lying on the deck, hands and feet ziptied together, duct tape over his mouth, and a note next to him explaining who he was. Francis smiled and grabbed the man by his hair, dragging him into the house. His smile only widened at the man's muffled cries of pain as he pulled. There was revenge to be had, and he'd take his fair share of it then hand the man over to the surviving field hands. They'd certainly be interested in one of the men who'd shot at them, their friends, and their cattle.<p>

* * *

><p>Madeline paced back and forth in her room for quite a while, bored beyond belief. Finally, she decided enough was enough and headed downstairs. On her way outside, she ran into the motel owner, Thomas. "Oh, hello. Madeline, isn't it?"<p>

"Yes, that's right. You're Thomas?"

"Yep, that's me. Your son seems like a real nice boy, ma'am. He's doing quite a bit to help my friend out, from what I understand."

"Michael certainly is... unique, in that way. When he decides to do something, there's not a force on the earth that could stop him."

They stood there in silence for a little while after that, neither of them having anything to say. After a while, Tom asked, "If you dont mind me asking, what is it that you're running from?"

"Sorry, what?" Madeline asked, feigning ignorance.

"Ma'am, please dont play me for a fool. I've seen all sorts of people come through here, but you and yours are something special. A woman, her son, her son's girlfriend, and..."

"Sam."

"Okay... I just don't understand, you four come in with almost no money at all, and the only things you bring with you except the clothes on your back are a bunch of weapons. Don't tell me you're here on vacation."

"I'm honestly not certain how much I should tell you. We had some trouble back home so we left. As far as we know, the people after us don't know where we are any more. That's why we're here. We need a place to lay low and see if things cool down." With that, she stepped around the now more-confused Thomas and into the motel parking lot, where she leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette.


	8. Chapter 2: More Than Logic

**Author's Note**

_Things pick back up here and we get a bit more action without losing sight of the plot. On a side note, starting in about a week I'll have to deal with some stuff that may slow my progress on the story. I'll still keep giving updates, of course, it just may take a bit longer than I've been doing up to this point._

* * *

><p>Fiona brought the truck to a halt in the parking space at the motel it'd originally been at when Thomas let them borrow it. Sam hopped out of the bed of the truck, his glock now tucked into his belt. Michael and Fiona both got out of the cab, each carrying their respective weapons. They hadn't even reached the office door when Tom rushed out. "How'd it go?" he urgently inquired.<p>

Michael nodded reassuringly. "We got the address of where the gang leader is staying, and Ricardo gets to spend some quality time with your friend on the farm."

"Okay, so what's your next move?"

"First, we need to scout the area and find out what kind of security he's got. Then we walk in and talk with the boss, who goes by Eddie, according to Ricardo."

"Wait, you 'walk in and talk with the boss'? How does that work?"

"We're going in as a rival gang, so we need to make a splash without letting any bullets spray. It'd be a lot to go into right now, so just trust that we know what we're doing."

"I don't see that I got much other choice, so I'll take your word for it."

* * *

><p>The address provided turned out to be a two story building housing an old family-style restaurant. There were no guards outside the building, but there were a few people inside that always seemed a bit too focused on any new people coming in and on a door in the back. Most likely, it was a staircase leading to the second floor, where Eddie would be located. Michael watched from down the road as Sam left the restaurant and turned away from him, taking a long way around to avoid being followed. After several minutes, though, he slid into the passenger seat of the van and turned to Michael. "Hey, Mikey. Nothing's changed yet. There's an elderly man at the bar and a younger black-haired man at a booth in the back. As far as I can tell, they're the only ones on watch at present. The truck is still where it's supposed to be."<p>

"Alright, thank you Sam. I think Fiona's ready now." He tapped the glass divider. "Fi, you ready?"

She slid it open to reveal a small explosive charge. "Yeah, Michael, I'm all set."

"Great, let's go." They got out of the van and slowly walked toward the cafe. Before reaching it though, they broke off and went around to the back where a small delivery truck was parked. In the back were a number of crates containing assorted alcoholic beverages. Fiona tossed the charge in and continued walking back around to the front and into the restaurant. They went straight to the man in the booth, exactly where Sam had described him. Both Michael and Fi stood over the man, making him feel as if he were in the weaker position.

Fiona addressed the man. "We need to see Eddie."

The man's eyes widened for a second, but he quickly composed himself. "Eddie? I don't know no Eddie. How about you beat it?"

Fiona shook her head disapprovingly. "Well, hon, that's just not what I wanted to hear..." she said in a southern accent. The turned to Michael. "Mickey, be a doll?" Michael nodded and snapped his fingers. Sam, sitting in the van listening on the conversation through the bug Michael was carrying in the heel of his shoe, heard the snap and quickly activated the detonator Fiona had provided him with.

The room shook and a loud explosion was heard. Fiona glanced toward the sound of the blast and nodded in approval, then turned back to the terrified man in the booth. "Now, don't make me ask you again, please. I'd like to talk to Eddie."

"Oh," Michael said in a calm, almost-not-caring voice. "Your truck is on fire." The man frantically stood up, rushing over to the door in the back and unlocking it.

"H-he's just up those stairs." The man subsequently backed away toward the exit and left in a hurry, but Fi and Michael paid no attention. They were already ascending the ancient carpet staircase. Upon reaching the top, there was another door, this one unlocked. Fiona opened it and stepped inside, Michael remaining behind her. Inside the room were three men. The taller, more authoritative one standing in the center was armed, holding a lowered shotgun.

"Why, hello there," said Fiona in a sarcastically sweet way in her overly-thick fake southern accent. "Such a pleasure to finally meet you, Eddie!"

The man with the shotgun frowned at the use of his name. "How do you know my name? Who are you?" he demanded.

"Well, my name's Glen, and this here is Mickey. We had a conversation with your boy Ricardo." She paused for a reaction. It was obvious that Eddie knew the name. "So, we're new around. Been working the areas north of here a bit, decided it was time for a bit of an expansion. As it turns out, you're kinda the man in charge around here. I just thought I'd stop by to get a letter of resignation, if you dont mind."

"Are you crazy? This is my town, I ain't giving it up to some psycho chick that decided to stick a firecracker in my delivery truck!"

Fiona crossed the two-meter distance between them, ripped the shotgun out of his unsuspecting hands, and punched him in the face, all within a matter of about a second. "It was not a firecracker!" she screamed. The other two men drew their sidearms, pointing them at Fiona. Michael stepped forward and into view for the first time, leveling the Mac-10 he'd brought with him. Fiona brought her new shotgun up as well.

Michael spoke up in the same cold detached business-like tone he'd used earlier. "Listen, fellas, we can have a shootout here and odds are that every single one of us are gonna end up dead. My Mac-10 will fire five rounds for every one of yours. My employer has a shotgun pointed directly at you, Eddie. No matter what happens, you will end up dead if shooting starts. Now, we can all take a nice bloodbath here, or you can order your men to lower your weapons."

He hesitated for a moment, but couldn't deny the logic and told the men, "Do it, put the guns down."

Fiona smiled in a way that looked almost genuinely friendly. "Good, I'm so glad that unpleasantness is out of the way. Now, you and your crew clear out of here. We see you around here again, you'll have more things hurting your head than Mickey's logic."

They stood there in silence for a minute, then Michael said, "She means bullets, you know. You'd have bullets hurting your head. It was one of those subtle threats where she-"

"Yeah, I get it! Alright, we'll leave town, just don't hurt nobody." Fiona looked at Michael in a brief moment of disbelief at how quickly this had ended, then nodded to Eddie.

"Good. We expect you gone by this time tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Henry Mendez was scared. He'd just been on the normal watch duty at the restaurant when a crazy woman had demanded to see his boss, Eddie. Knowing what would come next he made a snap decision and, after unlocking the door for the woman, he ran outside and toward the van they'd noticed an hour ago. When he'd told Eddie about it, the boss told him to go confront the driver if the van didn't leave after a while. Realizing that they must be involved in what was happening, he decided to approach the van. There was someone in the driver seat wearing a Hawaiian shirt and headphones, and listening intently to something. So intently that he didn't realize Henry was pointing a gun at him until it jabbed him in the side of the head.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Final Note<strong>

_And you thought it was over, didn't you? It can't be that easy._


	9. Chapter 3: A Clear Advantage

**Author's Note**

_Well... this is awkward. In any case, I'm not dead. After six months of real-world crap and a severe case of writer's block, I have finally returned to the keyboard to write once more. I want to thank everyone for their ongoing support and apologize for kinda letting you down. I do love writing this story, though, and I think I can safely say I'll be able to continue now. Comments and favorites are appreciated, as always. Thank you again, I hope you enjoy the story._

* * *

><p>Fiona strode out the front door of the restaurant, her shotgun leaned against her shoulder. Michael followed suit several paces behind her. He walked at such an angle that he could see both her and the building behind them. He certainly wouldn't be taking any chances after things had gone so well.<p>

"Michael!" Fiona said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The van is gone!" That stopped Michael in his tracks, and he immediately spun around to face the shabby restaurant from which they'd departed. Their new friend Eddie was now walking outside, speaking into a cell phone. He was far enough away that they couldn't hear what he said, but Michael and Fiona already had a pretty good idea.

"Well, well, well... Look how the tables have turned." He spoke slowly and with a smirk on his face. His two associates had followed him outside, though neither had their weapon drawn. "You two had a lot of nerves, comin' in here like you did and asking for _my_ town on a silver platter. And I nearly gave it to you!" He turned back to his men with the last words, as if addressing them. "_My town,_ and I nearly handed it to these two!" The men laughed (forcibly) at the idea. "But now things are different." He paused. "Now, we have your friend."

There was silence for about a minute, then Michael spoke up. "Yes. And we have yours." Eddie raised an eyebrow at this, more in amusement than concern.

"Oh? And who is this man of mine? Last I checked, we're not missin' nobody."

"Ricardo Perez, if my recollection is right. We found him passed out at a bar and checked his call record. How else do you think we found you?" This was, of course, a lie. Eddie didn't know that, though.

"Well then... It would seem we've reached a stalemate," he said at length.

"Not quite," interjected Fiona. "We have a loyal member of your gang. You have little more than a phone-operating lackey. Not even a good one, at that. He's just a big irritating moron that can't put down a beer. In fact, I don't know why I didn't get rid of him years a-" She noticed Michael glaring at him so she broke off. "In any case, we maintain a clear advantage."

"Surprised?" Michael said under his breath. Eddie heard but decided not to make an ordeal of it.

"Erm... Well, I suppose a trade is in order? My man for yours?"

"Not good enough," Fi replied. "We'll still be needing you to leave town."

"I'm 'fraid I can't do that. This whole event has shown you're weak. We want our man back, but we're not giving up the town for him."

"Well then, we don't have a deal. It would seem we're done here. Come along, Mickey." She turned to walk off, but he put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head - as she'd known he would. She feigned a sigh and turned back to Eddie. "Alright, I've mulled it over and we'll do it. Where do you want to do this?"

"We'll meet in the old K-Mart parking lot east of town. Be there tomorrow morning at dawn with Ricardo or I'll put two in the back of your friend's head myself."

* * *

><p>It was a long walk back to the motel, and it was not a pleasant one. Thoughts of Sam's likely demise filled their heads, and they couldn't shake the terrifying image of him lying dead in some long-forgotten parking lot in Texas. They hardly spoke, and what little they did say were simple nothings about what they'd do after they'd dealt with getting Sam back. Neither would openly admit the very real possibility that they wouldn't be getting Sam back. When they did finally make it back, the sun had already begun to set and lines of pink and orange streaked across the sky.<p>

Madeline ran out to greet them, bombarding them with a flurry of questions about what had happened, if they'd succeeded, and why they'd taken so long. Michael and Fiona remained silent, grim looks embedded on their faces. Then Mattie froze, having finally realized what was wrong. "Where's Sam?" she asked slowly. Michael and Fiona shook their heads and provided a brief recount of the day's events. "Well, what are you doing here? Go get that man back from the farmhouse and get ready for tomorrow!"

They fully intended to do so. Michael went inside to speak with Tom, and came out with the keys to his truck. Fi and he got in and drove up to the ranch. They knocked on the door and it opened about a minute later. "'The 'ell are you doing out here? Wait, are you the ones Tommy sent? Oh, bless you! Welcome, welcome! Come on in, why don't you?"

"Thank you, but we can't right now. I'm sure you recall a man from the gang that's been messing with you was dropped off here earlier. We'll be needing him back."

Francis frowned, looking slightly confused. "I'm real sorry, darlin', but he's long gone. The boys are out diggin' a grave right now. You could have the body, I s'pose, but I don't know what you'd want it for. I didn't realize you needed 'im alive, so I let the 'hands have a bit of justice down the barrel of a nine-millimeter."

Ricardo Perez was dead. The only reason Eddie kept Sam alive was to get Ricardo back. Now that that couldn't happen, the plan would go downhill rather rapidly.

* * *

><p><strong>Final Note<strong>

_Thank you once more for reading. As always, reviews and favoriting are greatly appreciated. With any luck, I'll be able to post the next part much more quickly than I did this one (like, within a month or two). Until then, I bid you adieu._


	10. Chapter 4: Crazy in a Reasonable Manner

**Author's Note**

_Here we are again. Hello. *waves* I've been trying to work through just how to finish this chapter, but I decided to go ahead and post this to tide everyone over until I get the next segment up (which shan't be long). Hope you enjoy, and comments/favorites are always appreciated._

* * *

><p>"I didn't realize you needed 'im alive, so I let the 'hands have a bit of justice down the barrel of a nine-millimeter."<p>

At this, Michael bolted away from the door and broke into a sprint toward the truck. Placing one hand on the guard around the bed of it, he vaulted clear to the other side, wrenched the door open, and leaped in. Fiona had just barely scrambled into the passenger side when Michael slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out momentarily before speeding off down the dirt road.

* * *

><p>"Michael, please!" Fiona shouted as they slid around a ninety-degree turn at thirty-five miles an hour. She still couldn't tell if Michael had taken his foot off the accelerator during the entire time since they'd left the farmhouse. "Will you just slow down!"<p>

Without taking his eyes off the road or loosening his white-knuckles grip on the steering wheel, he simply replied "Fi, I'm sorry if my driving offends your sensibilities but we don't have time to slow down. Not to mention that you never hear me complain when you drive considerably faster than this!"

"I drive fast when it-" She briefly halted speaking as her head collided with the window next to her during another sharp turn, then - after having exclaimed sufficient profanity - started again. "Michael, we're not going to help Sam by smashing through a building or getting ourselves killed!"

"I know what I'm doing!" Michael returned. "We might be able to fix things, but we don't have a lot of time. We need to get to the K-Mart before they do, scout it out and be ready for them. We're not that far from it now, but I'm not wasting any time."

Fiona hesitated, somewhat surprised that there was a plan and they weren't just driving crazily for no reason. It was much more reassuring that they were driving crazily in a reasonable manner, because that was the sort of thing that made sense with Michael. Failing to devise a witty retort with which to save face, she said "Yes, well... Okay, good. Fine, so we'll-" She halted abruptly upon noticing Michael was about to turn the wrong way, and shouted "Left! Turn left!"

Slamming on the brakes, switching signals, and spinning the steering wheel, they just barely avoided slamming into the coffee shop adjacent to them. They didn't, however, avoid being slammed into by the black van rapidly approaching from the east.

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><p>Nate Westen was having a particularly bad week. Not the sort of bad day where you lose your rainy-day fund at blackjack or miss the jackpot by one number. Not the sort of bad week where you lock yourself out of your house, either. More like the sort of bad week where you're called by your ex-spy brother and told to get-out-of-dodge, have your truck's front glass shot and are later in that truck as it overturns on the interstate, nearly become a hostage, and finally experience a head-on collision in the van of your would-be kidnapper. It truly was not one of his better weeks.<p>

He leaned back in his seat, lifting a hand to his forehead and cringing as he brought it down red. Although he had an odd sensation of light-headedness, he had the common sense to confirm the continued correct placement of all his appendages and extremities. Pressing his head against the leather headrest behind him and arching his back forward, he let out a small cry of mixed pain and relief as his back popped. Thinking more clearly, he made a weak attempt to open his door - and failed. With an incoherent shout, he slammed his fist against it to no avail. With a sigh of surrender, he finally turned to face out the smashed front window of the van. Through it, he saw a number of people in a nearby coffee shop gawking at him and a wrecked truck that appeared to have spun into an empty warehouse opposite him upon impact. Although he couldn't actually see anyone, Nate was convinced that he saw a familiar profile in the vanquished vehicle.

"Of course..." he muttered to himself as he unlatched the metal door to the back of the van, crawled through, and stepped out through the rear exit that had in fact come unhinged on impact and now sat five yards away. He limped slowly along toward the other vehicle, brushing blood from his face occasionally.

After what seemed like years of effort, when he'd made it nearly a third of the way there, he was met by someone he didn't recognize. The man was a tall, scrawny fellow with wire-rim glasses. He held a steaming dark-colored beverage. "Hey, are you alright? I was in there," he pointed to the coffee shop, "and I saw the wreck. Its a miracle you're even walkin'. Do you need a phone or anything? Or, y'know, a doctor?"

Nate, not stopping for a moment, looked to the man and managed an appreciative smile. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. I've -" He paused to brush his arm across his face again, then paused momentarily with a feeling that he was going to black out. "I've got a phone, and I'll be fine. I appreciate the offer, though."

The man continued. "Oh, I absolutely insist! Come now, this is absurd for you to keep walking in your condition. Lets get you inside, someone can check on the other vehicle."

Nate responded with a negative, but the man wouldn't take it. "I won't hear of it. You're losing so much blood, and your limping! It'd be criminal of me to-" Nate stumbled over a small piece of debris at this point, causing him to jerk forward and his shirt to lift up slightly - enough so to reveal the handgun tucked into his pants. The stranger trailed off at the sight of it, backing away slightly and saying "Well, I'll leave you be, I s'pose. Not my place to interfere." With that, he walked off back to the coffee shop with several glances over his shoulder. Nate staggered on.

Nate had just rested his hand on the handle of the passenger-side door when the other clicked open and his brother climbed out, leveling a gun at him.

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><p><strong>Final Note<strong>

_Well, there you have it. I'm sure some of you know what just happened there in the last line, but I cut it off at that point for those of you who don't. Next chapter will also be the first one with any Nate-and-Michael-in-person, which is something that people have been speculating on for a while now._


	11. Chapter 5: Bro?

**Author's Note**

_Okay, I wouldn't ordinarily do this but I feel obligated to do so this time since I wasn't clear about when things were happening. The timeline: The group finds Ricardo and takes him to the farm owner mid afternoon - Fiona and Michael confront Eddie in his building around 7:45 pm (accounting for the long drive and time it took to scout the area) - Fiona and Michael return to the motel around 11:30 pm - arrive at the farm around 4 am - Michael and Fi collide with Nate at approximately 6 am.  
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_I apologize for any confusion about this, I had everything straight in my head but, when sharing this chapter with a friend I realized that I hadn't explicitly stated when these events occurred.  
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><p>Nate had just rested his hand on the handle of the passenger-side door when the other clicked open and his brother climbed out, leveling a gun at him. He stood absolutely still, glaring at Michael. In doing so, he noticed that Michael too looked rather worse-for-wear with a badly bruised left temple, a nasty gash on his right forearm, and seemed to be leaning on the truck's hood for support as he pointed his gun towards Nate.<p>

Completely dumbfounded, he inquired "Bro?"

"Duck," was Michael's only response.

With his rapid loss of blood and questionable concussion, Nate felt a bit slow. "What...?"

"Get down!" Michael exclaimed, then jerked his arm to aim past the left of Nate's head and fired off two shots. Neither shot would've hit Nate if he hadn't ducked, but he felt like he'd just avoided a terrible fate nonetheless.

The two rounds Michael had fired, after darting past his terribly confused brother, smashed through the glass of the suburban driving down the road behind them. The first sent glass spraying at the driver and gave him just enough time to turn in the duo's direction before the second round impacted his chest.

Nate, crouched behind the side of the truck opposite Michael and closest to the suburban, had one hand by his side trembling while the other remained in its original position on the door handle. From that location, he had a great view of the bloodshed and subsequent horror as the now driver-less vehicle lurched to the right, went into a spin, and came to a halt twenty yards later. The person in the passenger seat jumped out, drew, and leveled what looked to be a machine pistol of some variety. At the same time, two other men were doing the same from the back of the vehicle - one with a shotgun that'd be useless at the present range, and one with a hunting rifle that looked like it would be the most problematic.

Michael discharged his sidearm several more times and brought down both the first man - which sprayed a fully-automatic storm of bullets into the countryside upon falling to the ground, confirming Nate's suspicion - and the man with the rifle before either could squeeze the trigger once. With his firing ceasing only with an empty weapon, Michael tossed it aside, ducked behind his side of the truck, and shouted for Nate to do the same.

Nate, still in a crouching position, released his hold on the passenger door and started to crawl around to the other side. Their attacker discharged his shotgun, sending a spray of tiny pellets in their general direction. One or two of them pinged off the side of the truck, but most sailed past them and went unnoticed. The man, recognizing Michael as being out of ammo, started walking toward them and continued firing periodically - with similar results each time.

Now safely on the other side of the truck- or rather, as safely as one can be when a man with a shotgun and hostile intent is approaching - Nate peered around the side just in time to see a spray of red burst from the man's chest, and for the man to subsequently fall to his knees and slouch forward onto the pavement. Michael looked at Nate with raised eyebrows, and received a shrug in response. They both slowly stood up, then Michael jogged over towards the others to check their weapons.

Not knowing what else to do, Nate peered into the truck and saw Fiona Glenanne sitting there holding an assault rifle, smiling at him. "Hello, Nate!" Her hair was an absolute mess - tangled, partly red from blood, and with bits of broken glass throughout. Her simple white top now had a rather large blood-soaked left sleeve. Yet she still looked beautiful.

"Oh, hey," Nate managed. "Nice to see you, Fi." After looking around momentarily, he added that it could've been under better circumstances and received a smirk and affirming nod in response.

At that moment, Michael stepped up behind them carrying the hunting-rifle from their attacker and the scoped bolt-action he'd retrieved from Nate's van. After directing a quizzical look at his brother and receiving no reply, he said "Come on, we'd better get out of here. If you haven't yet realized, we've made quite the scene." He nodded in the direction of the coffee shop where a large crowd of people had gathered around the windows. Some were talking into cell phones, some were taking pictures, and some were simply gawking at them. "Looks to me like Nate's van is the least damaged of all the cars here, and its the only one that hasn't been shot or had someone shot in it.

"Well..." Nate started, then thought better of it and just nodded assent as the trio walked towards the van and got in.

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><p>Ten minutes and ten miles later, Nate finally inquired as to their current destination.<p>

"Right now, we're going to get Sam. We were trying to help someone out and the plan ended up going wrong. The people we just encountered were supposed to be on their way to exchange Sam for one of theirs."

"So, what exactly went wrong? And how did you know it was them and that they didn't have Sam?"

"Its too long of a story to explain, but I recognized the suburban and I could see that the passenger in the back-right door - the only logical place to have someone captive in a vehicle like that - wasn't Sam."

Completely lost but not willing to admit it, Nate nodded and said "Okay, got it. So, where exactly is Sam?"

Fiona spoke up from the back, "We're not certain but he's probably going to be at the restaurant that the gang has been using as a sort of base. Or," she added in a quieter voice, "He could be dead."

"Well, couldn't he always be dead every time no one's lookin' at him? Its like the cat thing." He looked at Michael for confirmation, but was answered with a shake of the head.

"This is different," Michael stated. "The deal was that we'd trade Sam for one of their men, a guy named Ricardo. Only problem is, they didn't have Sam with them. That means one of a few things. They might've sent those men ahead to make sure we were there. They might've been coming to tell us of a change in the plans..." Michael trailed off for about a minute, deep in thought, then finished the statement.

"Or, they might've already killed Sam and been on the way to kill us."

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><p><strong>Final Note<strong>

_And... Hm, I think I might just stop there. Take a vacation, tour the world, discover a lost civilization... Nah, I'll keep writing. But please, comments and favorites are what keep me going on this story, so its always wonderful to hear people's input and see their support. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorited so far, and many thanks to everyone that does so in the future.  
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_Next chapter will probably be the last of this arc, and we'll see where we go from there. I'm presently debating whether Michael and the gang stick around in _Coronto, Texas_ for a while longer or keep heading east. Even if they do move on right away, they'll likely be in Texas for at least part of the next "episode." If they stay, we'll have a new cast of recurring characters and a more definite scene could be established. Plus, Texas is neat. I like Texas. If you have an opinion on the matter, feel free to share it in your review.  
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_Also, amusing fact for everyone out there - At the end of the first chapter of On the Run that I published (the prologue, that is), one of the last lines was that _"Madeline cried out in suprise and horror at watching her captor's head being splattered across her wall." _If you look at the beginning of the subsequent chapter, Michael questions the man he'd just shot. The man whose head he'd _"splattered across her wall." _So far, no one has commented on that fact except a friend of mine (who has never seen the show) who texted me while reading it and asked me about that bit. Just thought that was a bit funny, that people (and authors) can get ten chapters in without realizing a mistake like that. I'll probably go back and edit the first chapter or just add a note at the bottom, but I figured I'd mention it here as well.  
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